Thursday, September 27, 2012

Sometimes something can be grammatically correct, and still make no sense whatsoever. Sometimes songs do that. And usually it makes for a terrible song. But every once in a while a really good song comes up in my life that is like that.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Today, I drove to rehearsal, parked, turned off my car, grabbed my binder, locked the car doors, and went to rehearsal, accidentally leaving my keys in the cup holder.

Fast forward.

Six or seven hours later, I'm frantically searching through a phone book, trying to find the phone number for the nearest police station.

I find it.

I borrow a friend's cell phone.

I call them.

I explain the situation to them:
My car is parked behind the SCERA theatre, and my keys are locked in it. Could somebody please come help me?

I give them all my personal information.

I wait.

And wait.

And watch as a police car drives into the wrong parking lot.

My friend hands me her cell phone.

The lady tells me that the police officer can't find my car.

I tell her the police officer is in the wrong parking lot.

She tells me she'll tell the police officer that.

I wait again.

The police officer finally comes to the right place.

He looked like a slightly intimidating, but not too scary kind of police officer.

And then he asked me to sign a paper that said I wouldn't hold him responsible if he damaged my car.

And suddenly, I was terrified.

What if this man has me sign the paper, then pulls out a baseball bat and destroys my windshield?What if he dropped eighteen bowling balls on my poor little vehicle?What if he calls it NAMES!?
I hesitantly signed the paper.

Then he did some cool stuff with a weird yellow thing and a three-foot long little rod thing.

And he unlocked my doors.

He told me to have a nice night.

Then he got back in his car.

As I drove away, I couldn't help but think "Thank you, kind police officer, for not dropping bowling balls on my car. I don't think I would have been able to handle that."